Today
by Abigail-Nicole
Summary: Today was exactly like every other day since I married him--a steady leeching of my soul as the horror of this place beats me into submission, trying to make me a mindless wraith of gray, and today I got a little closer to being that wraith. "


**Today**

**Summary:** "Today was exactly like every other day since I married him--a steady leeching of my soul as the horror of this place beats me into submission, trying to make me a mindless wraith of gray, and today I got a little closer to being that wraith. " 

**Disclaimer:** Narcissa and Lucius, while not named, are the property of JK Rowling. All else is mine! Mine I tell you! Mwhahahaha!

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I loved him, a long time ago.

When I woke up this morning, everything was wrong. I curled up in bed and it was his, smelling like him, feeling like he felt; selfish, cold, unfeeling, life-sucking. I lay there, trying to give it warmth, but it only made me colder.

It rained all day, a cold, frozen rain that beat at the flowers in the garden outside my window until they all faded away, all their spirit crushed. I stood inside and watched it for hours until the sky, land, and water all faded into gray. 

When I opened the closet door, nothing was colorful. It was all black, black and white and gray even though I felt like wearing red. When I looked in my jewelry box, everything was silver and diamonds and pearls and black stones. No rubies or emeralds or sapphires or color. I used to like silver. Now I love gold. And there is none.

When I lived alone, things were colorful and messy and vibrant and uncaring and alive. Today, I was in a mood for cleaning and there was nothing to clean. Everything was pristine, sanitized, meticilious and hideous. I wanted to open a can of red paint and throw it all over everything, but there was no red paint.

I came to this place determined to make it home, make it colorful, livable, but it only took the colors and merged them to black. It took life and sucked at it until it was the color of death and they seemed to be the same thing, just as the bed sucked the warmth from my body, just as the rain froze and crushed the flowers.

Today, I wanted to wear huge earrings, but I didn't have any. I wanted to curl up in jeans and a sweatshirt with hot chocolate and read a funny book. But I don't have huge earrings, a sweatshirt, jeans, or even hot chocolate, much less a funny book. The shelf was full of reference books and old newspapers with nothing funny of them. I stood in front of the shelf in a black dress and felt like crying.

I loved him, a long time ago.

I was home alone all day long, and it was cold, but the cold felt like him. It was dark, all the light gray with frozen rain and the aura of that place, the aura of him. I stood in front of expensive French doors in a black formal dress and watched life die. And it felt like a funeral, the elaborate burial of life in a cold silver coffin lined with black, the only flowers on the grave black roses with too many thorns. The sun rose and set in a gray disappointing display of nothing, and I felt that the sun would never shine on this house.

Today was exactly like every other day since I married him--a steady leeching of my soul as the horror of this place beats me into submission, trying to make me a mindless wraith of gray, and today I got a little closer to being that wraith. Today, there was no reason to get out of bed except that the bed was cold and hard. But there is no more comfortable furniture. Today, a part of my soul died, and now I can't turn away. Today, life was denied to me.

I wanted to do something mindless today--some small, petty gesture of triviality that would prove to myself I was alive. I wanted to knit, to braid, to crochet, to cook, to pull myself away from the darkness inside my soul so that I could pretend I was fine, caught up in something that everyone did. 

There was nothing. "If you want a blanket, I'll buy a blanket for you," he would say, and he hired an expensive cook who makes French delacacies; who probably can't make hot chocolate. He can't understand hot chocolate, either, and anything he doesn't understand is pointless to him. And I live in his world.

The dance is over, the candles blown out, the music stopped.

Today, I forgot how to dance.

And I'll never learn how again.

* * *

**Notes:** I was trying to use very simple language to paint a picture; tell me how I did. Love you all, please review!


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